


Skylight

by crookedneighbour



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Diners, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bottom Peter Parker, Diners, Hand Jobs, Hero Quentin Beck, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: He was supposed to protect Peter. That’s what Mr. Stark had asked for. Quentin was unsure of himself though. Taking Peter to the Skylight was keeping Peter out of the clubs-- not that the bars in the Village were anything like the Pyramid Club had been-- but their encounters had begun to feel suspiciously like dates.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Skylight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Multifangirl69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifangirl69/gifts).



He was supposed to protect Peter. That’s what Mr. Stark had asked for. Quentin was unsure of himself though. Taking Peter to the Skylight was keeping Peter out of the clubs-- not that the bars in the Village were anything like the Pyramid Club had been-- but their encounters had begun to feel suspiciously like dates.

They’d been meeting at the Skylight Diner for a good couple months now. Quentin would take the shuttle from Stark Industries to Times Square and walk down, despite the mess of tourists and costumed characters it had become. Peter once asked if Quentin was old enough to have gone to the old porn theatres before they were shut down. He wasn’t. Peter had then complained about how cruising was nothing like it used to be, which sounded rather absurd coming from someone who had a fake ID to drink.

Quentin wasn’t sure why Stark had him following the kid around. To keep him from sleeping around, doing harder drugs, and getting into fights hypothetically, but why was that Tony Stark’s business? The kid didn’t seem to be sleeping with Tony, so all he’d theorized so far was some kind of love-child situation or Tony was looking to recruit him. Despite the kid’s wild streak, he was whip-smart. There were thousands of smart, but troubled kids out there though. This was NYC. Why this one?

It was around 11:30 so the diner was still pretty busy. A big group of LARPers had already settled into a table in the back, and in a couple of hours, the kinksters would join them, the two groups having a surprisingly large shared circle. The whole thing was loosely 50s themed, but probably anachronistic one way or another like most diners were. A large mirror made up the wall of the back seating room which had tables, while the front of the space had bar seating and booths. 

Now that the 7 ran to only a few blocks over, it made it easier to ensure that Peter made his way home rather than slipping off somewhere. Peter used to physically run from Beck and had seemingly vanished around corners a couple of times. Quentin didn’t believe in the supernatural, but the kid was uncanny. He’d bolted over a fence in an alley faster than he’d ever seen.

Tonight Peter wasn’t running though. He’d even beat Quentin to a table and was eating a plate of cheese fries. Peter was wearing a black Star Wars t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of with pale blue jeans and red sneakers. The cuffs of his pants were rolled up to reveal white socks with a thin rainbow stripe around the top.

“I thought we agreed you’d eat healthier?” Quentin started. 

He probably looked like the kid’s uncle or a younger dad. Peter had pointed out he dressed like a dad frequently enough, letting the nickname ‘daddy’ playfully slip from his mouth as if it was nothing at all. It was moments like that, that made these feel more like dates. In response, Quentin had tried to dress less dad-ish but suspected Peter dug the fatherly aura about him. He seemed like the type to go for older guys-- which was something Quentin should not be thinking about.

“I could have eaten a salad before this,” Peter answered, fiddling with the ketchup bottle. He shoved the knife into the bottle in an attempt to finesse out more of the condiment. 

“You need help with that?” Quentin asked. Peter shook his head.

“Mind your own business, old-timer,” Peter retorted with a laugh.

With that Quentin joined Peter at the booth, their feet briefly knocking under the table.

Quentin ordered a cup of black coffee and a slice of apple pie, the second of which he figured Peter would largely steal. Quentin recognized the waiter but wasn’t sure if they came by enough to be considered regulars. Peter finally managed to drown his cheese fries in ketchup.

The two of them didn’t talk much this time. Peter happily dug further into his fries while Quentin watched him. He’d grown fond of the kid’s mannerisms. On his off days, he’d catch his mind drifting back to the way Peter smiled at him, bright and earnest. Quentin knew better than to blur the lines of business and pleasure, but the kid made it hard not to. Peter could be a bit of a flirt, likely out of reflex more than intention, and there’d been a few times he managed to get under Quentin’s skin.

Quentin’s cup of coffee came, and Peter rose.

“I’m just making a quick stop downstairs,” he explained. The restrooms were down a tiled staircase. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Quentin watched as Peter headed down, trying not to notice the snug fit of his jeans nor consider the way Peter had briefly run his tongue over his lips. He took a sip of coffee, focusing on the sour aftertaste to ground him.

Time marched on and Quentin grew suspicious. He rolled his eyes at no one in particular as he rose. Whatever Peter was doing, he was obligated to check on the kid.

Quentin moved quickly. He swung open the door of the men’s room to find Peter leaning against the sink, palming his groin through his clothes. His face flushed slightly on seeing Quentin.

“Took you long enough,” Peter sighed.

“What are you doing? What if someone else came in here?” Quentin snapped. He couldn’t help but watch the way Peter’s hand was still cupping himself, his hips shifting slowly with each squeeze.

“Then I guess you’d be peeling them off me, wouldn’t you?” Peter pouted, licking his lips again. 

Quentin hadn’t understood previously why bathrooms had locks on the outer doors when there were just more lockable stalls inside. Situations like this were why.

Quentin knew he should be dragging Peter back upstairs instead of locking the door behind him. He should also be pushing Peter away as he approached. He definitely shouldn’t be getting hard, his skin prickling in proprioceptive response. 

“You need help with that, Mr. Beck?” Peter asked playfully. He eyed Quentin’s groin appreciatively. “Looks like a lot to handle.”

Peter placed a gentle hand on Quentin’s groin instead now. Even just a light squeeze from him felt heavenly. Quentin bucked his hips slowly in response.

“I’m supposed to look after you, Peter,” Quentin answered weakly. He was tired of taking cold showers after seeing the kid. 

“What if this is what I want?” Peter hummed, beginning to unzip Quentin’s khaki pants. “Besides, you’re making sure I don’t go around getting it from someone dangerous.”

Quentin gasped as Peter shoved his way past his cotton briefs, taking his erection in hand.

“That’s one way of putting it…..”

What would Stark think of this? The rational part of him was fully aware this was a terrible idea, but the blood flowing to his prick and the warmth of Peter’s hands overrode his professional sensibility.

Peter nuzzled against Quentin as he continued to jerk the older man off. If the kid was going this far, Quentin might as well go all in.

Quentin leaned into a kiss. Peter’s lips were soft and his tongue was slick against Quentin’s own. Peter’s hands were growing wet with pre-come and slid back and forth faster with the extra lubrication. Peter pulled back with a smile.

“God, you’re good,” Quentin groaned, heat building in his stomach and thighs.

“That’s nothing, old man,” Peter hummed.

Peter moved back slightly, shifting onto his knees. Quentin had daydreamed about this, as wrong as he knew it was. Peter was legal sure, but he still felt dirty over how young and fresh-faced he was. That of course was equally a part of his appeal though.

Quentin gasped as Peter’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Peter tugged his pants out of the way slightly to better access him, resting his hands on Quentin’s bare thighs.

Peter made a contented noise as his head began to bob, briefly looking up at Quentin. His brown eyes were wide and pretty-- just as pretty as Quentin had imagined.

“I’m close. You don’t have to swallow it if you don’t want to.”

Peter made a noise like a laugh, his tongue then applying extra pressure to the tip of Quentin’s cock. He dove deeper down this time, and the tight flex of Peter’s throat around his member brought Quentin to orgasm.

He could feel Peter swallow as he came, throes of pleasure traveling down his legs. Quentin almost cracked his head on the bathroom door.

Peter placed an affectionate kiss on Quentin’s pelvis.

“I’m still hungry,” he complained with a wry grin.

Quentin felt as if he was floating still, his muscles relaxing after his release.

“You can have some of my pie,” Quentin sighed. “I ordered it for you basically.”

Peter rose back up and placed another brief kiss on Quentin’s cheek as he zipped up the man’s fly.

“Thank you, Mr. Beck.”

Quentin tussled the kid’s hair. Even if this was a mistake, Peter was happy. That was what mattered after all.

The two of them headed back upstairs. No one seemed to pay them much mind, but the slice of apple pie had arrived. Peter dug into it immediately while Quentin continued drinking his coffee. Was Peter his boyfriend now? What was he to Peter? Should he resign from the job? It was kind of weird he just got paid to get a handjob. 

“I wanna go dancing with you,” Peter said decidedly.

“That sounds like a bad idea,” Quentin admitted.

“Oh, so you can get a quickie with me, but can’t take your sugar baby dancing?” Peter asked.

“My what?” Quentin returned with a sputter.

Peter kicked him under the table and broke out into laughter.

“You’re too easy, Mr. Beck.”

Maybe he was. He should have resisted Peter more, but it was too late for that. He had to be responsible for what he did. That was all that was left.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.skylightdinernyc.com/Welcome.tpl#
> 
> This was a trade for a music video MFG69 made me for Even as I'm Selling Out (spiderio multichap I wrote). This fic is based loosely off their video "Sober" in exchange.
> 
> https://youtu.be/c8G2u_gcXFM


End file.
